


Lucky

by occasionalwriter



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drugged Stiles, Drunk Stiles, Gen, Pack Feels, Sick Stiles, The pack saves Stiles, helpful pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalwriter/pseuds/occasionalwriter
Summary: Stiles is drunk, Stiles is drugged, and Stiles is saved by the pack.





	Lucky

Stiles wasn’t particularly fond of clubs, he found them a little stifling with the bodies all pressed up against each other and the only time that he could bear it was after a decent amount of alcohol consumed beforehand. Danny had taken him a few times, just to see what it was like, and every so often he would admit that it was a good place to let off some steam.

 

That night he was there with the whole pack, all of them trying to have a night of acting like idiots and having a generally good time. Stiles had watched Danny slide seamlessly into the scene, pulling Ethan into the mass of people within a heartbeat. Erica and Boyd were grinding together a few seconds after that, looking happier than they had in a while. Isaac had pulled Cora onto the dance floor, which was a sight to see considering the two were still in the stage of their relationship where they weren’t quite sure what they should or should not do.

 

It took Lydia a little longer to let go and follow Aiden out and Allison followed her, pulling Scott with her despite his halfhearted protests. That left just Stiles and Derek sitting up at the bar with Derek drinking water like the boring human he was while Stiles nursed his second Coke and Rum.

 

Stiles was properly loosened up by the time some guy slid into the stool on the other side of him, Derek watching him closely as he started to hit on Stiles. After about ten minutes of listening to Stiles be oblivious to the advancements of the other guy, Derek decided he’d give them a few minutes of privacy by heading to the bathroom.

 

When he returned, Stiles was no where in his line of sight and he groaned as he turned toward the crowd to try and pick out the teen. Scott had explicitly told him to make sure that if Stiles got drunk that he was safe, because a drunk Stiles was an even more reckless Stiles than usual with half the coordination and twice the promiscuity.

 

It took him a bit but eventually he spotted him, on the edge of the crowd but not too far away from where Ethan and Danny had migrated to. He figured he’d just hang back and watch (creep) from afar until it seemed like he was needed.

 

Absently, he reached onto the counter for his drink and took a quick drink, rearing back in a little bit of shock when he tasted Stiles’ Rum and Coke instead of his pure water. Then, he tasted something else, besides the alcohol and pop, that he was well aware shouldn’t be in the mix. His eyes were seconds from bleeding red when he figured out just what he had tasted and before he could lose control Erica and Boyd were sliding up next to him and Erica had a tight grip around his arm, claws peeking out just enough to hurt and get him to notice them.

 

“What’s the matter? Why are you so pissed?” Erica asked, pulling him back as he started to walk to where he’d last picked out Stiles.

 

“Someone put something in his drink.” Derek explained, taking her moment of thought to pull out of her grip and weave through all the people blocking his path.

 

It didn’t take long for him to get to Stiles, the crowd parting easily every time someone shifted by them and therefore making Derek’s trek a little less treacherous than he had been expecting. But then he was there and Stiles looked so out of it that Derek wondered why no one else seemed to be noticing, the other guy’s hands were tight on Stiles’ hips from where he stood behind him and every time Stiles seemed to pull away they tightened a little more and yanked him back. He wasn’t anything spectacular to take in, average height with a bit of a smirk on his face as if it were a constant fixture there with dark hair and pupil blown eyes. His clothes were sloppy and if Derek were to guess, this wasn’t his first time pulling the ‘this isn’t my scene but you seem cool’ act that he’d had going on when he was hitting on Stiles at the bar.

 

Derek glared as he moved forward, Erica and Boyd having caught up and doing their best to keep wandering eyes off them as Derek practically ripped Stiles from the guy’s grip and pulled him up close. Stiles’ head lolled onto his shoulder, his forehead resting there as he lifted his arms up to grip Derek’s shirt, trying to find something to hold onto when everything else felt like it was floating, including his head off of his body.

 

Once Derek was sure Stiles wasn’t in immediate danger of passing out, he was working his way back outside, to leave the building and hopefully never come back again. Erica and Boyd were both left behind again, but this time they were snarling at the guy and making threats that he didn’t initially seem to find at all realistic but once Erica flashed a deadly smile and pressed her hand hard into where it was resting on his arm, he seemed to back off a little bit.

 

The slight commotion hadn’t gone unnoticed though and as soon as Derek was in the fresh air outside the club with Stiles wavering on his feet in front of him, the rest of the pack was there too and looking confused at the situation until Erica and Boyd were stumbling out and explaining it quickly. Scott looked like he was ready to turn back around and go in there to kill the guy but Allison was keeping him in place, telling him that was probably not going to work in a club full of people without the cops getting involved.

 

Stiles kept pawing at Derek, as if he was trying to get his attention and Derek finally turned to face him, trying to remember to be sympathetic but not exactly fond of the way Stiles was acting so needy. “What?”

 

Stiles pulls back a bit before saying, “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

 

Derek groans a bit and gets a better grip on him, “I’ll take him back to my place, let him sleep it off. I’ll let you guys know if anything changes.”

 

Scott looks like he wants to refuse but after glancing to Stiles and his wandering eyes he figures that he wouldn’t want to have to explain that to his mom. So, he nods and reaches forward to give Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze and he says, “Just text his dad on his phone and let him know he’s at my house so he doesn’t get worried. You good with that, bro?”

 

Stiles nods sloppily and then he’s pitching forward, out of Derek’s grip and towards the cement ground. Boyd just barely manages to catch an arm and yank him upright again, saving his face a lot of pain. He’s completely unconscious though so he’s hanging limply in Boyd’s grip until Derek is there and lifting him up in a fireman’s hold, “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Then they’re all splitting off into their respective groups with Allison following Scott back to his car, Lydia taking off with Jackson, Isaac and Cora mentioning something about going to Scott’s as well, and Boyd and Erica following along with Derek. The two of them climb into the back of Derek’s car and Derek is trying his best to not drop Stiles into the seat. He ends up setting him in there pretty gently, a little help from Boyd who sticks his hand up when Stiles’ head looks in danger of slamming into the side of the car.

 

Halfway back to the loft Stiles is sitting up abruptly and looking around as if he had no clue where he was. Derek slows down a little bit, reaching over to shake his arm, “You okay?”

 

When Stiles throws a hand over his mouth, Derek is jerking the car over to the side of the road and thanking Boyd for being forward thinking enough to get out of the car himself and pull Stiles out instead of waiting for Derek to do it. Erica watches from the back seat and sees Stiles puking up more than she thought could possibly fit in his stomach as Boyd does his best to hold him up and Derek stands a couple feet away cringing a little bit and handing an old t-shirt from the trunk of the car over to them. When he’s finally done puking, Boyd tries to hand it over so he can wipe his face off but as quickly as he’d come out of it, he’s passing out again. That leaves Boyd to wipe off his face and shove him back into the car.

 

They drive for a minute or two before Erica is asking, “Is it a good thing that he threw up? That he got it out of his system?”

 

Boyd shrugs and Derek shakes his head a little bit, “I don’t think it’s good but I don’t necessarily think it’s bad. Hopefully he’ll just sleep it off at the loft.”

 

“We’re never that lucky.” Boyd reminds them. It’s a silent rest of the ride and once they’re there Boyd is speaking up once again, “I helped him when he puked, you have to carry him up the stairs.”

 

Derek sends him a dirty look but figures it’s fair enough and he follows Boyd into the little walk in area of the four story apartment building. Usually, he’d take the stairs to the top floor that he’d rented out but, all things considered, an elevator ride seemed like a better option.

 

The loft consisted of four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a relatively large living area that the pack had pretty much commandeered as a meeting place whenever they wanted a place to go. Erica was the one to unlock the door and let them all in behind her, watching as Derek set Stiles down on the couch and let him fall so he was lying flat.

 

“What do we do now?” Erica asks.

 

“Make sure he doesn’t die.” Boyd states.

 

Erica looks at him a little bewildered and Derek punches him in the arm and tells them, “He’s going to be fine. We’re just making sure that he doesn’t throw up and choke on it.”

 

As if on cue, Stiles is sitting upright again and Erica is darting over just in time to turn his head so he doesn’t throw up on his own lap. Derek manages to get a garbage can under the majority of the puke but Stiles doesn’t stop until he’s dry heaving and sweating in exertion.

 

“Pull back, Stiles. Take a few breaths.” Erica instructs, grabbing a hold of his shoulders from her spot sitting on the back of the couch and pulling him away from the trash can. He manages to hold back for a few seconds but then he’s reaching forward and yanking the trash can back towards himself, dry heaving again.

 

“How do we get him to stop?” Erica asks, the severity of the situation suddenly becoming all the more real. She can see Boyd pulling out his phone and googling it as she speaks and even Derek is looking concerned now. He awkwardly pats Stiles’ back, attempting to calm him down but feeling like he still wasn’t really helping at all.

 

“But a cold washcloth on his neck.” Boyd instructs.

 

That has Derek darting into the kitchen and they hear him fumbling around before the water is being turned on. Seconds later, a sopping wet washcloth dripping from his hands as he tries to fold it into a decent shape. He sets it carefully on the back of Stiles’ neck and the result is almost instantaneous, his body finally relaxing a bit and his death grip on the trash can releasing.

 

He doesn’t pass out right away though and he’s leaning back into Erica’s legs without really thinking about it. His eyes are bleary and he’s still sweating but at least he’s not hunched over and looking like he’s in pain anymore. Erica pulls the washcloth out from between her legs and his neck and dabbing it across his face. “How’re ya feeling?”

 

Stiles just shakes his head a little bit, trying to swallow to clear the taste out of his mouth which has Derek jerking back toward the kitchen to fill up a class of water. When he hands it over to Stiles he brushes against cold, clammy hands and finally realizes that Stiles is still in his uncomfortable club clothes with drips of vomit and spit on them.

 

“You should change. My clothes will fit best. Can you walk to my room?”

 

Stiles nods with false confidence and Erica watches doubtfully as he tries to lever himself up off the couch. He gets to his feet and sways there for just a second before he’s tilting to the side just enough that Boyd is reaching forward again to keep him upright.

 

“Come on bro.” Boyd says gruffly, very clearly not breathing through his nose as he puts an arm around Stiles’ waist and starts moving forward. Derek goes off ahead of them to find some clothes for him that he wouldn’t be too terribly hurt about losing in a battle against throw up.

 

Despite Stiles’ inability to really do much they manage to get him changed pretty quick and the half a minute it takes for Derek to throw his clothes in the laundry, Boyd to get the glass of water, and Erica to go find Stiles’ phone so she could text his dad, Stiles had fallen to the side on Derek’s bed and fallen back asleep.

 

Boyd’s about to wake him up when Derek just sighs and tells them, “He’s fine. Hopefully that was his last puking spell. At least this way I’ll know if something goes wrong.”

 

The two nod and stretch out a little bit, the night catching up to them as they both yawn and start to head toward their own rooms. Erica tells Derek to let her know if he needs anything but he’s willing to bet that she won’t even move until she wakes up the next morning. Boyd, on the other hand, might be in for a rough night if Stiles starts to throw up again, he was a lighter sleeper than anyone else Derek knew.

 

Despite the fact that Stiles still smelt a little bit like puke, Derek fell asleep pretty quick and his glance at the clock told him that that was probably due to the fact that it was almost two in the morning already.

 

“Derek. Derek, something’s wrong.” Stiles is shaking him awake, hands clammy on his shoulder as Derek faces the other way. He wants to pull a pillow over his head and pretend that he didn’t hear anything but Stiles sounds genuinely scared.

 

“What. What is it?” Derek growls, sitting himself upright and looking over at Stiles who is finally looking slightly more aware of his surroundings.

 

“I don’t remember how I got here.”

 

Derek feels a little bit of relief at that because at least he’s conscious that something was wrong and hopefully that was the first step to healing. But, before he can answer, that look is crossing over his face again, for the third time that night.

 

Derek grabs a hold of him and practically carries him to the on suite bathroom, throwing the lid open in front of him just in time for him to throw up the little bit of water they’d managed to force him to drink. His dry heaving has Derek moving away just long enough to repeat what they’d done before, setting the washcloth on the back of his neck again and thankful that it wasn’t just a one time deal that it worked.

 

Once he’s finally confident he’s done throwing up, Stiles scoots back and rests against the wall, leaning against the tub to his right to keep him up. “Dude, what happened?”

 

“Someone spiked your drink.” Derek explains, “We got you out of the club before anything happened though.”

 

Stiles takes a minute to process all of that and reaches out to pat Derek on the shoulder, “Thanks for protecting my innocence.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Stiles shrugs a bit, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and grimacing at the residue it leaves. He takes the washcloth that had fallen to the floor to wipe it off and throws that into the sink before saying, “I guess… I mean, I don’t remember it so I can’t really be all that pissed. I feel like I just ran a marathon though. I didn’t think puking could make you so sore.”

 

“You should rest some more. See if you can sleep off the rest of whatever this is.” Derek says, standing up and then reaching down to offer Stiles a hand. He takes it and follows Derek on unsteady legs back to his bed.

 

“What time is it anyway? When did this all happen?”

 

“We got you into bed around 2, it probably happened at 1.” Derek says, looking over at the clock and telling him, “It’s 4 now. The effects should be wearing off by now. Are you feeling better?”

 

“Enough.” Stiles assures. “I can sleep in the other room. I probably don’t smell all that good right now.”

 

“I haven’t kept you alive this long to let you suffocate in your pillow.” Derek states, “Get in bed.”

 

As much as Stiles would like to refuse and to say that he’s just damn fine, he knows that’s not true. And his legs are already tired of holding him up and Derek’s bed is right there, not down the hall, so he falls face first onto the bed and is out right as he feels Derek yank the blankets out from underneath him and cover him up instead. 

 

Scott was there before any of the rest of them woke up the next morning, using his own key to get in instead of waking them all up. After stepping inside and listening for a few seconds he headed toward the kitchen and starts pulling some stuff out for breakfast. Boyd is out there before Scott can even start something, rubbing his eyes and dropping down on the stool across from him.

 

“Rough night? Is Stiles okay?” Scott asks.

 

“He puked on the way home, when we got here, and then again like three hours later. I think he’s alright though.”

 

“Puking? So it should’ve worn off pretty quick.”

 

“Not really. He kept passing out. It was a little concerning for a while.” Boyd admits.

 

Scott looks a little alarmed and says, “Does he need to go to the hospital? I should’ve been here. Damn it. He’s okay though? Should he go to the doctor?”

 

“He’s fine.” They both look up to see Derek walking in, looking more disheveled than he usually allows them to see him. “He’s still asleep but he should be alright.”

 

“Thank you.” Scott says genuinely.

 

Derek just shrugs and surveys the mess that Scott is making but then doesn’t seem to care enough to stop him or say anything. They all stay quiet for a bit, Boyd paging through his phone as Derek cleans up anything that had been displaced in the living room the night before and Scott continues his attempt at cooking them a good breakfast. Erica joins them about fifteen minutes later, scooching up close to Boyd with a smile and then practically salivating at the food that Scott has made for them.

 

They get about halfway through eating before Stiles finally makes his appearance, walking in a little unsteady but still standing on his own two feet. Derek watches him closely, like he’s waiting for him to fall, and Scott gets up to get him a plate when Stiles goes straight for the table, lying his head down the moment he sits.

 

“You alright bro?” Scott asks, sliding the plate across to him as he sits back in his own seat, “You’re still looking pretty rough.”

 

“Apparently, being drugged will do that to you.” Stiles says.

 

Erica’s hand goes to his neck and she reports, “You’re still really warm, and you still don’t smell quite right.”

 

“That might be from the puke and sweat.” Stiles says with a snort.

 

“It really isn’t.” Scott is scrunching his nose as he speaks, “It’s definitely not as bad as it was last night though so that’s good. Do you want me to take you home?”

 

Stiles shrugs a little bit, pushing the eggs on his plate around and not really making any attempt to eat anything, “Doesn’t matter, my dad works all day today so he won’t notice.”

 

“You might want to stick around then.” Boyd says, “Because…”

 

Boyd’s cut off then as Stiles jolts upright and darts into the kitchen, yanking the garbage can out from under the sink and throwing up all over again. Scott is leaning away as Derek gets up looking more than exhausted and walks over to him, setting a hand on his back as if to assess the situation. Luckily, instead of the never-ending puking of the three previous times he only heaves a few times before pulling back and groaning in annoyance. Derek pushes him toward the sink before tying up the garbage bag tightly and setting it next to the outside door.

 

“Sure you don’t need to go to the doctor?” Scott checks, finally getting himself up to help out a little bit by handing Stiles’ glass of water over to him.

 

“I’ll be fine.” Stiles assures. “That feels like the last of it.”

 

“Go lay down on the couch. Sleep some more.” Derek says, “You’re not going home until you’re done puking.”

 

As Stiles left the room, the four of them watch and just when he’s out of ear shot Scott says, “I want to slaughter that guy.”

 

“I just want to know how many people he’s done that too, and how many times no one was there to stop him.” Erica says, “I’m real fucking sick of pretend alpha guys like him taking advantage of the people around them.”

 

“Pretend alpha.” Boyd smirks, “That’s about the best description of him I think there is.”

 

“I think we should go back tonight.” Erica states, drawing weird looks from the other three. She shrugs a big and explains, “We could probably coax him into doing it again to one of the wolves and they could teach him a bit of a lesson. Maybe then the point will get across.”

 

“No.” Derek says, “Tell Stiles’ dad as little as you can but enough that he knows what the guy is doing. See if he can send someone undercover and then get him arrested. We don’t want to be caught up between the law and a criminal.”

 

“Fine.” Erica growled, grabbing a hold of the rest of her plate and heading off in the same direction that Stiles had gone. She sat down at his feet and flipped on the TV just as Stiles shook himself awake from the little catnap he’d fallen into, “You alright?”

 

“I’m good.”

 

“Are you sure? Cause I’m still eating and I don’t want to watch you puke.” Stiles glared at her a little bit which had her smirking and giving his leg a pat, “Kidding. Seriously though, you feeling better?”

 

“Yeah, just planning on never going to any sort of club, bar, or party ever again for the rest of my life.” When Erica pouts a little bit he rolls his eyes and amends his stance, “Okay, for the rest of the month.”

 

“You know we wouldn’t have let anything happen.”

 

“I know. I just don’t want to know how many people don’t have friends like you guys with them all the time. All things considered, I guess I was pretty lucky.”

 

“That’s what I said too.” She turns toward the TV, seemingly done with the conversation for a second before telling him, “But, hopefully we scared him enough that at least he won’t be a threat anymore. That’s a start.”

 


End file.
